


Spontaneity

by acornandroid



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Eddie’s divorce, Everyone lives, Fix It, I hope you like it, Introspection, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Canon Fix-It, Sex, Teasing, The boys are stupid, a tiny touch of internalized homophobia, chapter 2 for the banging, no one died, no one dies, request fic, they love each other okay, what do you mean Eddie dies? We must have seen different movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-01-03 05:31:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acornandroid/pseuds/acornandroid
Summary: During his recovery and his divorce, Eddie agrees to stay with Richie.Sharing a bed and waking up tangled together in the mornings?Well, Eddie thinks he may actually be gay after all.(AKA The boys are dumb, confess, and then have the sex)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A fic request for the darling @ruuhroh on Twitter. Hope you like it! Thanks for the fun one I had a blast.  
Also thanks to @becomegroovy for putting up with my bitchy ass when I asked her to edit

“So those two suitcases weren’t just to keep your insane person image alive?”

Eddie looked over at Richie seated beside his bed. He was sitting up now, which felt like progress. Turns out getting stabbed through by a killer clown spider led to some major down time in the healing department. At least the doctors said he was making progress awhile in, and Richie kept showing up to keep him sane (or so he said).

“No, uh. We had a bit of a fight before I left so—”

“A  _ bit  _ sounds like an understatement to me, knowing you.”

Eddie snorted, because leave it to Richie to never let him finish a sentence. He was just so  _ tired.  _ The pain meds took a lot out of him and turns out just sitting around and letting your body patch itself back together made you exhausted. Still, he smiled faintly, leaning his head back and closing his eyes for a small moment. 

“She likes to…threaten divorce sometimes. It’s usually empty, cause she knows I’ll stay…” Eddie started, keeping his eyes closed, “But this time…I can’t do it anymore, Richie. She’s…everything I fucking hated in my mom and I just…married her.”

“Gross. You married your mom, dude? What the hell. I mean I’m not surprised-”

“Beep beep, Richie.”

To his credit, Richie seemed to sober a little for once. He did the thing again, the one where he moved his chair forward a little more and stared at Eddie with just a little more concentration. The one where he laid his hand on bed and looked like he  _ wanted  _ to say something but didn’t. Something always held him back, and Eddie couldn’t put his finger on it.

When Richie didn’t say something, Eddie continued on, finding staring at the blanket easier than the other man’s hand resting against the sheets.

“I just put all the shit I could fit in my suitcases and I left…” He muttered, his fingers picking at a stray thread that was starting to bother him. “I think…I’m going to stay gone this time. I’m done. I’m done with her…I’m done with trapping myself. I’m done with living inside a fucking box- a fucking  _ prison _ , Rich. I’m fucking sick of it I’m just done. Done letting all that Derry bullshit fuck with my life…”

He plucked at the thread harder as his rant spiraled on, his fingers shaking somewhat as he tried to yank it out fully. Because, honestly, fuck that. Fuck that fucking thread. What right did it have, sticking out like that when it wasn’t actually needed, like it wanted him to believe? Fucking with his life and turning things on its head. Sucking out his happiness and leaving him feeling just as rung out as he had for most of his life at home. Home was supposed to be welcoming- you were supposed to marry someone who made you laugh and made you happy. Not one that enduced your paranoia and made you tip toe around them every waking moment.

Fuck that thread.

_ Fuck it. _

Eddie didn’t expect the hand over his own. He honestly didn’t. Richie drew him out of his own internal fit, carefully pulling his fingers away from the thread and holding on lightly. He squeezed once and held on for a moment. Only a moment, until he seemed to realize what he was doing. Richie patted his hand, and simply laid it over the top of Eddie’s instead. Casually, but his fingers were twitching with an anxiety Eddie couldn’t place.

“Hey.” Richie said, his voice softer, as if he didn’t want anyone else to hear in the empty room. “Hey. I told you, Eds. You’re braver than you think.”

His softer smile made Eddie’s heart squeeze in his stitched-up chest. It made sense to return it, a gentle upwards turn of his own mouth. “Thanks, Rich.”

-

Richie Tozier was not gay.

He just wasn’t.

So maybe he thought men were more attractive than women. Maybe he was more than a little repulsed at the idea of sleeping with a female.

Any maybe, just maybe, he had been head over heels in love with Eddie Kaspbrack since they were ten and he had thrown a shoe at him for some reason he couldn’t really remember.

That didn’t make him gay though, right? Sure, he was interested in Eddie. Eddie who had grown up hot as all fuck, still so tightly wound that Richie was sure he could snap him into a million pieces by simply pulling on his ear. A neurotic idiot with a dumbass boring job and the uncanny ability to be the one to call Richie on his shit no matter the time of day.

It didn’t make him gay if he wanted to wake up next to Eddie every morning and listen to complain about the sugary cereal Richie still ate. It wasn’t gay to want to have Eddie’s clothes mix up with his and to be there when he came home from work. Wasn’t gay to want to kiss his stupid face to shut him up when he was on one of his fucking dumb rants about bullshit like foodborne illnesses and statistics of the dangers of crossing the street.

It certainly wasn’t gay to sit beside his hospital bed for the better part of a month and hold his hand so tightly when the stitches were removed from his face. Or to be there for him as he called Myra and actually went through with his plans to file for a divorce like a fucking champ.

Or asking Eddie to come stay with him while all of that went through.

Okay, maybe it was a  _ little  _ gay.

Fuck.

It wasn’t the being  _ gay  _ that was the problem when he thought about it. It was the forced perspective of looking at the world through Derry’s conservative and toxic pinhole view that was the problem. One did not grow up in a shitty small town, repress nearly every non-straight thought that crossed one’s mind, deal with an intolerant murder clown alien and just walk out peachy keen and repression free on the other end of it.

Beverly Marsh was a goddamn gift. She was with him assisting in making his New York vacation penthouse ‘Eddie friendly’ as the man of the hour slept off his pain pills in Richie’s fucking bed. The couch would be bad for Eddie’s back, even if it was just for a few hours.

(Now Richie would have to figure out how to somehow not die when his bed would smell like Eddie that night.)

The guest bedroom hadn’t been ready yet (crammed floor to ceiling with Richie’s hoard of things that he didn’t have storage space for. Not like the room was being used anyways. He mostly lived in LA, alright, Bill? So, it didn’t matter where a repressed bachelor put his things, jeeze, calm the fuck down.), and Richie didn’t want to leave Eddie at the hospital alone any longer, not when he could be released that day and they could take the drive back to New York. It made sense to take Eddie home, and then immediately lock him out of the room where he would be staying while they cleaned frantically, like Richie was thirteen again and his mom was threatening to go through his things with a fine-toothed comb.

Him and Beverly had just been talking, that was all. About the old days, what they could remember now. She had offhandedly mentioned Bill, and then Ben. Childhood crushes when they were young and stupid. 

Richie had echoed his own tale, stuck in this cycle of having a crush on your childhood best friend that you forgot existed for a good decade or so. 

Then, as Beverly Marsh was very easy to talk to, it just  _ happened.  _

It just  _ happened  _ with Richie suddenly blurting out that he was gay-- but also wasn’t. He launched into a completely unprompted rant about how fucked up Derry was, how he had straight up forgotten how he was gay— but wasn’t, maybe—until Mike had called and he had been hit with shattering dam wall of his childhood repression. Then Eddie had stepped back into the picture, nearly fucking died, and Richie was stuck in this strange gay—but not gay, but maybe a little—for Eddie Kaspbrack limbo that made him want to scream and laugh hysterically at the same time.

“Richie.” Beverly’s voice added the perfect punctuation to his venting. She was staring at him, holding one of the boxes of magazines against her hip.

“What?” Richie pulled a bit of a face, sorting through what looked to be yet another stack of newspapers from the time he thought it would be funny to walk around New York and take one out of every newspaper vending machine. All of those went straight in the recycle box.

“I think you should go to therapy.”

Richie gave a sharp laugh and looked up immediately, his good humor sobered quick as Bev was just staring at him. “Fuck. You’re serious, aren’t you?”

That was how Richie ended up sitting in an office with a ‘COEXIST’ poster on the wall and one too many houseplants.

Therapy actually wasn’t half bad.

Turns out that shits helpful.

-

Eddie was a free man.

Well, more of a free man than before.

He was well on his way to the finish line, but not without a few speed bumps to keep him from racing at a hundred and forty down the track.

The divorce had been contested, because of course Myra wasn’t going down without a fight, which meant all of this was going to take far longer than either of them would like. It had taken nearly three weeks into the start of the chaos for Richie to convince Eddie to block Myra’s number. He had been ranting about wanting to be a free man, and it was time he started living like one. The woman kept calling at five in the morning, for fucks sake, trying to coax Eddie out of this ‘phase’ that was obviously his ‘mid-life crisis’. It just so happened that if Eddie’s phone went off it would ultimately wake Richie up too. Seeing as they had taken to both sleeping in Richie’s room.

Oh.

About that.

The guest room had lasted all of one week. After the third night in the row of Eddie waking up in a cold sweat and hearing Richie’s nightmare induced shouting from down the hall, they had decided it was easier to tough out the dreams together. Richie slept better with this tiny ball of nerves at an arm’s length than he ever had before. It was simpler, if he woke up in the middle of the night to the mental image of Eddie’s pain-stricken face and feeling of his blood on his face, to just reach out feel him there.

In those stolen moments, Richie would brush his fingers lightly over Eddie’s cheek. Eddie would wake, but barely so, and give a small snuffle of a noise before he shifted closer and tucked into him. These were moments that Richie would never forget, and never wanted to end. If he could freeze time he would.

He’d freeze it right there with Eddie’s weight in his arms and soft puff of breath against his neck as he muttered something about Richie’s dental habits and drift right back off to sleep.

That morning, there was no sharp default ringtone to wake them before the sun. No alarms had been set either, since Eddie was still on medical leave and Richie worked by his own schedule.

(Richie liked to think he worked by his own schedule. His manager said different.)

Sometime in the middle of the night their positions had flipped. Eddie was pressed pleasantly up against Richie’s back in as much of a big spoon maneuver as his tiny body could manage. He was snoring lightly, the vibration of the sound sifting through Richie’s worn old t-shirt and tickling his skin. He gave a groan of a noise as he came too and stretched his arms out—only to elbow Eddie right on top of the head as he brought them down.

“Ow— _ fuck _ —” Eddie winced, the sudden contact startling him into the waking state enough to open his eyes instantly. “Fuck, Rich—your fucking long ass arms….”

He was muttered the last half through a yawn, shimmying down Richie’s lanky body a little more and deciding between his shoulder blades was a safe enough stop to replant his face. Eddie was mumbling something else, but it was lost against the soft fabric of Richie’s shirt.

“Shit. Sorry.” Richie said, bringing up hand up cautiously this time and scrubbing at his face. He yawned in turn, because that shit was more contagious than any disease Eddie talked about. It took him a moment to try and get comfortable on the bed once again, which required a bit of shifting around.

“You’re  _ squishing _ me—”

“Would you quit fucking fussing? Jesus. It’s too early--”

“You’re going to  _ suffocate  _ me with your fucking body—”

“Well. There are worse ways to go.”

Eddie grabbed his side after that remark and Richie jolted, his knee jerk reaction causing him to accidentally kick at the smaller man acting like a clinging koala.

“ _ Ow--! _ ”

“Oh, that one did not fucking hurt, you big— _ your feet are fucking freezing! Jesus Christ--! _ ”

Eddie had shoved his freezing cold feet right between Richie’s thighs. He hissed between his teeth, thrashing to get away with all the early morning effort his sleepy body could manage, but Eddie just hung on tight. The attempt was short lived, and Richie gave up with a huff.

“You’re a fucking brat.” He muttered in defeat, deciding it was easier to just let Eddie cling to his back. “What even happened to your socks? You yelled at me for like three hours last night about your dumbass sock sleeping habits.”

“I think I toed them off in the middle of the night—”

“Did you just say  _ toed  _ out loud? What are you? A fucking romance writer?”

Eddie only wiggled his toes between Richie’s thighs in retaliation, causing him to jolt and try and swat back at him. “Don’t do that! It feels fucking weird, man.”

There was a snort of a tired laugh against his back. Eddie wiggled his toes once more before shifting to finally get up. “I’m gonna go make coffee—”

He pressed a kiss to the back of Richie’s neck as he sat up, scratching his chest with a yawn.

It took them a second to realize what had just happened. 

Both of them froze.

Richie stared at Eddie and Eddie stared right back. The silence sat between them as they both tried to process the kiss. Sure, they had fallen asleep in a tangled mess when they were kids, and maybe were both not thinking as hard on the ‘sleeping in the same bed’ factor as they should have.

“I’ll…be in the kitchen.” Eddie made his escape quickly, his face burning and his heart pounding.

Right.

Okay.

So kissing Richie on the neck like it was the most normal thing in the universe had just happened. It actually  _ did  _ feel like the most normal thing in the universe. The only thing that made it  _ not  _ the most  _ normal  _ thing in the universe was the fact that they weren’t actually  _ together, _ and that Richie had stared at him like he had grown an extra head.

But…how were they  _ not  _ together?

The more Eddie thought about it as he moved about Richie’s kitchen, that he had carefully organized, the more it made sense that they should be an item.

Jesus fucking Christ—an  _ item _ . What was he? A high school boy with a crush?

They were both adults. Eddie was well into a divorce- they slept in the same bed, had routines that they followed together. They cooked together, they cleaned together (or so Richie would say). Grocery shopping was an endeavor, but they managed to accomplish it on a weekly basis, even though it had just started as a way to get Eddie out of the house instead of on bedrest all day long.

Eddie even did Richie’s  _ laundry _ .

Everything they did checked off all the domestic boxes on Eddie’s mental list, so why wasn’t there the header that said so. A check list that should be titled ‘Day-to-Day with my obnoxious boyfriend’. Instead it just sat there in his head, unnamed, but used daily.

Why not title it? That just made…sense.

Eddie looked down at the coffee grounds, he had already put the filter in to place while he was lost in the caverns of his own introspection. He took a deep breath, spooning out the appropriate amount into the coffee machine and snapping the lid closed.

Riche would say he made the coffee too strong, but he would drink it anyways. Just like Eddie would drink it if Richie made it too weak.

Sighing through his nose, Eddie stood on his toes to reach up and grab his mug out of the cupboard. Beverly had brought it over a couple days into his moving in with Richie. A plain, white mug with black print that simply read ‘Hang on. Let me overthink this.’

Well, if that wasn’t suited for the moment, he didn’t know what else was.

Footsteps caught his attention. Richie walked too loudly for his own good. That, and he refused to wear socks more often than not, so it was easy to tell where he was from the smacking of his feet against the tile. Eddie inclined his head just a little, watching out of the corner of his eye as Richie stepped over, setting his phone down on the counter and reaching for his own coffee mug from the same cupboard.

Suddenly hyper aware of how close they were, Eddie’s breath hitched. Richie had placed his hand between his shoulder blades as he reached up to grab his mug. There was a small moment tinged with a shade of awkwardness hanging between them. A moment where they were both mentally resorting themselves into a box that could easily fit two of them. That moment when a small thing morphed into a  _ relationship _ .

“So, I’m gay.” Eddie blurted, sharply and suddenly. His voice cracked in his panic, which was embarrassing considering he was forty. He cleared his throat, immediately grabbing the coffee pot the second it was done brewing and trying to ignore how Richie was staring at him, apparently struck speechless.

He waited there in the tense silence, pouring his coffee out and trying to battle down the bubbling urge to look over.

“…Okay?” Richie drawled next to him, sounding more confused than anything. That was not the tone of voice Eddie had been expecting in the slightest. He blinked rapidly and turned to look at him.

“Okay? Just fucking okay. That’s all you’re gonna say?” Eddie challenged, watching Richie hold his hands up in defense suddenly.

“Fucking shit, Eds—do you want a medal or something? Yeah, I just said ‘okay’ because you’ve been cuddling the shit out of me for like, a week solid, and then you’ve been doing the neck kissing thing now? I kinda figured you were somewhere in the gay department-“

“You  _ figured _ I was somewhere in the gay  _ department _ ? What the hell, Rich—”

“You’ve been married to a woman, dude!”

“Yeah- men can be gay and married to a woman, asshole. Welcome to the twenty-first fucking century.”

Their bickering tapered off, and they were left staring at each other.

“So…you’re gay.” Richie echoed Eddie’s previous statement once it had fully sunken in, finding himself staring at the shorter man who had seemingly forgotten all about his coffee on the counter.

“…Yeah.” Eddie murmured, somewhat cautious, like he was waiting to become the butt of one of Richie’s spur of the moment jokes. He edged closer, just a little. He should have put a clean pair of socks on, the tile was always freezing cold in the morning.

“That’s…that’s neat.” Richie stayed rooted to the spot, barely even moving. One would think he was a permanent fixture in the kitchen.

“So, we’re going with  _ neat _ now?”

“Well I was just gonna say…”

“Say what? That its  _ rad _ ? That its  _ swell _ —”

“That I am too- Fuck. You little turd. Would you just let me finish a fucking sentence for once?”

Eddie let that sink in, both the fact that this was the closest he had ever heard Richie come to admitting his sexuality openly, and the fact that they were standing so close now he could practically feel Richie’s breath. He hadn’t brushed his teeth yet. Neither of them had. Eddie preferred to brush his teeth both before and after his morning coffee, but he had already been derailed out of his routine by one unexpected domestic moment. 

Might as well just commit.

He pushed up onto his toes, grabbing the front of Richie’s sleep shirt and yanking him in. The kiss was immediate, instant—and certainly not an unconscious little peck to the back of the neck in the guise of sleepy affection.

It was biting, greedy, and awkward. Filled with morning breath and the prickling thought of plaque build-up. When was the last time Richie had been to the dentist? Eddie could make an appointment for him or bully him into making one himself. He’d have to brush his teeth after this for certain.

Or…maybe not.

The taste of Richie was something else. He wasn’t quite sure how to put his finger on it, but he could certainly see himself getting used to it. Every morning wrapped up in a warm embrace, a soft, welcoming kiss. The way cohabiting was supposed to be- not just the careful tip toe around a bear trap.

There was nothing careful about Richie. Richie was all impulse and jokes—a perfect mess of a gangly man with the same amount of problems as Eddie. A man who understood, and not only put up with Eddie’s frantic rantings but shouted right back at him. They needed each other to remind one another of their places. The things they had seen, everything they had been through. A shared experience and a bond one couldn’t begin to describe.

No, there was nothing  _ careful  _ about Richie Tozier. There was only joy—a chaser to the bitter shot of whatever-the-fuck life liked to slide out onto the bar.

Nothing careful in the way Richie sized his opportunity like a mad man, winding his arms around Eddie and twisting to pin him back against the counter.

“Rich—careful —the coffee—”

“Fuck the coffee.”

The way Richie kissed him had Eddie seeing stars. He kissed him like their lives depended on it. Nearly thirty years building up to this point, a river overflowing past its banks and into the forest around it. Out for everyone to see and experience. The kiss was a flood Eddie was more than happy to be washed away by. 

He couldn’t tell where he ended, and Richie began.

An arm bracketing him against the counter, a hand in his hair—now a hand around the small of his back, grasping at his shirt—a hand on his ass, pulling their hips tighter together. Eddie gasped, a hot little thing against Richie’s mouth. The scratch of his stubble burned red hot etchings into Eddie’s cheeks and his toes curled.

His own hands were in Richie’s hair, then down to the hem of his worn t-shirt, pushing up to explore the skin there.

They were in the kitchen, for fucks sake.

And now Richie was kissing his neck.

Eddie’s head dipped back, eyes sliding closed and letting out a soft sigh as he felt the scratchy trail of Richie’s ministrations down his throat. He gasped louder than before when the motherfucker started  _ sucking  _ at the base of his neck like he wanted to rip Eddie’s skin off.

“Fucking  _ shit _ , Rich— _ fuck _ —” Eddie arched his back, then pressed it back against the hard edge of the granite countertop. “What are you a fucking  _ vampire _ ?”

“Oh, I’m sorry- do you want me to  _ not _ stake my claim? Cause I could just get the sharpie and write my name on you instead—”

Eddie grabbed his hair, hauling Richie’s head up and claiming his lips again. They were necking in the kitchen like teenagers and, honestly, Eddie wouldn’t have it any other way.

They probably would have gotten a lot further, if it weren’t for Richie’s phone suddenly ringing on the counter behind them.

A matching groan of disappointment left the shared spaced between them. Richie pecked Eddie’s lips once more before simply reaching around him and grabbing the cellphone.

“You’ve got Richie. This better be fucking worth it because I had to pull my tongue out of the throat of the hottest being alive—”

Eddie watched Richie’s face change as he made direct eye contact with him. His brows furrowed, mouthing ‘who is it?’ as best he could.

“Uh. No- I’m with Eddie.” He was saying now, a slow smile forming across his lips. The muffled speaking from the other end of the line became a little louder and a little shriller. “Yes, ma’am. That would be the throat in which my tongue held residence. Did you know he’s got an  _ amazing _ ass? Well- you actually maybe wouldn’t know, but I do!” 

Richie hung up abruptly, setting the phone back down on the counter and positively  _ beaming  _ at Eddie, who had gone a few shades paler as he clued in.

“You didn’t.” Eddie said, staring him down.

“Oh, I did.”

“How did she even—”

“Might want to change your Facebook password.”

“She got back into my  _ Facebook _ account?”

“Yup.” Richie popped the end of the word off his lips, leaning in and kissing Eddie’s stunned face. “Apparently—I am a husband stealing man-whore. That’s a new one, and I think I’m gonna stick with it.”

Eddie blinked quickly, then gave a sudden, sharp, hysterical laugh.

“My—my ex-wife…found my—my  _ boyfriend _ ’s number through hacking into my Facebook account--!”

It was a scenario Eddie had never expected to be in. It was one he should be having a panic attack over.

But Richie was right there, and he was sporting a shit eating grin that could stop the world if he wanted to. He was giggling along with Eddie and sobering just a little when he realized what had been said.

“Your boyfriend? Moving a bit fast there, Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie caged Eddie in against the counter, an arm on either side of him. “Usually you’ve got a ten-step program.”

Eddie’s laughter dropped off into a contented hum, tipping his chin up and catching Richie’s lips in a slow, purposeful kiss.

“You know what? I think I’m gonna embrace a little spontaneity.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie's got his phone on silent, blow job shenanigans, and Star Wars references.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picking up right where we left off, with them going at it in the kitchen. 
> 
> Request for @ruuhroh on Twitter. Thanks, Liz!!!!

They had fallen back into kissing for what felt like hours in the kitchen. Eddie wasn’t exactly well versed in the making out department, and Richie’s own limited skill was already enough to overshadow him. However- learning how to work each other was half the fun, and this was first day of Healthy Intimacy 101.

Eddie had found an intense fascination with Richie’s shoulders in no time. The smooth, rhythmic motions of sliding his hands up and down his arms until he was able to grip at his shoulders. They were just the strongest pulling point on his body- his shoulders, his hands—and fuck, his thighs. It was a whole new realm of physical and emotional attraction that Eddie allowed himself to dive headfirst into.

Normally he would be a little more careful about jumping in before testing the waters—but Richie was a crisp oasis on a sweltering day.

Caution deserved to be thrown to the wind.

Richie’s tongue had found residence in his mouth again in no time, darting in playfully at first with teasing motions true to his character. Eddie must have startled him, because the second he started sucking on his tongue a low moan slipped from his throat. The hands that had been bracketing him against the countertop came to rest on his waist instead, pushing at the soft fabric of his well-worn sleep shirt with distracted motions.

“You’re so—fucking tiny…” Richie mumbled into his mouth, breath hot and stepping out onto the tightrope of desperation. It sent a shudder down Eddie’s spine that urged him to press just a little closer in a sudden burst of desire to slot his entire body against Richie’s own.

“You’re just fucking huge.” Eddie shot back, pleased as a peach in the strong motion of Richie’s _fucking massive _hands sliding around and under the back of his shirt. He felt the movements hitch over the built-up scar tissue against his back, then spur onwards again with the sudden determination of a cartographer laying out a new undiscovered landscape.

“Nah- you’re just—” Richie’s mouth had drifted from Eddie’s again, starting to work across his throat as if they had not been interrupted moments before, “You’re so compact. Like- your body is so fucking tight already and I love it—”

He was rambling, his mouth brushing against Eddie’s skin and facial hair scratching in the most pleasant way imaginable. Eddie slid a hand up and into Richie’s hair, holding tight and trying to push him down against him a little more insistently. A bossy little way to get Richie to kiss lower, to kiss harder, to do all those little things that were making his head spin and thoughts cloud over with the sudden, welcomed fog.

With his mind fading in and out of awareness (the low rumble of Richie’s voice in his chest pressed against his own was too much to focus on the actual words), Eddie made a sudden move, pushing his leg between Richie’s and smiling lazily when he heard his breath catch and a sudden cut in his chatter.

Ah. So that’s what that did- and what that felt like.

Eddie liked it.

Having a boyfriend was actually kinda nice.

“Did I find your mute button?” Eddie teased, biting back a soft groan in his throat when he felt Richie grind purposefully against his thigh.

It was a kind of fooling around he never expected to get to at this age. The hot, building intensity of bodies separated by a layer of fabrics that both parties were slowly beginning to grow annoyed with. The moments before- when a kiss spiraled into something more than just that, and years of repressed emotions and attractions that were bubbling and spilling over in the best possible way.

No more hiding, not from themselves or from others. A world that suddenly made sense between the two of them.

No more intense _fear_.

Just each other. However far they wanted to take it.

And Eddie wanted to take it _far_.

“Don’t be a little shit.” Richie said, breathy in a way that made Eddie’s chest blossom with a flower of pride. “I was thinking about blowing you but now I might not if you wanna keep talking about how I talk too much—”

“…wait. How about—yeah let’s do that.”

“What? Keep talking about how I talk too much?”

“No—asshole. Blow me.”

Richie snorted a laugh, tugging the collar of Eddie’s shirt aside to kiss across a fresh expanse of skin. Eddie hummed low in his throat, pushing Richie’s head forward with a hand holding residence in his hair. God- he wanted Richie’s mouth on every inch of his skin.

“You want me to blow you, Eds? Want me to suck you off?” Richie continued, scraping his teeth against his lightly freckled skin at his shoulder and collarbone.

“Didn’t we just cover this?” He said back, just a little breathless and more than a little impatient.

Richie laughed again, pulling off of him in order to kiss his lips once more. It lingered, mainly because Eddie didn’t want it to end- he never wanted Richie to stop kissing him. He could live out the rest of his life just kissing Richie Tozier and be completely content with that and nothing else.

Although, getting his dick sucked did sound fucking _amazing. _

_ _

“Okay—okay okay—I’m gonna do it—” Richie pulled off of his lips, sliding his hands out from under Eddie’s shirt finally and pressing them flat against his chest. He pecked his lips—then kissed him again—and once more—

“_Richie_—” Eddie laughed in between insistent kisses, chasing each and every one.

“Working on it, Eds.” Richie shifted, pulling away from where he was pressed against Eddie’s everything. “Your fault for being fucking addicting.”

When he slowly eased to his knees on the kitchen floor-- the sight alone—well, if Eddie wasn’t hard enough already that certainly did it. His breath caught in his throat, coming out as a soft whine as Richie breathed hotly over his cock, still trapped frustratingly in his pajama pants. He pressed his mouth, open, warm, and wet over the bulge in his pants, working his lips slowly and purposefully. Taking his time like the goddamn tease he was.

Eddie wasn’t quite sure if Richie had ever done this before- he was too good at it for this to be his first time. Though he wasn’t quite sure what a good blow job would even feel like. All he knew was that whatever Richie was doing- whatever he was leading up to was going to be amazing and mind blowing in more ways than one.

Richie’s long fingers hooked into the elastic band of his sleep pants, tugging at it and rising upon on his knees just a little bit. He pushed Eddie’s shirt up, working his lips over the soft expanse of skin right above the waistband briefly. Eddie got a hand into his hair, tugging slightly in encouragement. There was a subtle shift of Richie on the floor before him, making a soft sound as he moved back down to nuzzle at his clothed cock. Almost like he was worshiping the goddamn thing.

His toes curled in his socks as Richie obscenely pressed his hot tongue over the already embarrassingly damp patch of fabric, and—

“Ow—ouch, fuck. No- ouch okay, no knees on the tile. Fucking shit, sorry, Eds—” Richie breathed, grabbing the edge of the counter and pulling himself up with a little bit of effort, grimacing the entire way.

Eddie gave a few dazed blinks, his mind slowly coming back around to the present. “Wah…?”

“Maybe when I was like—fucking twenty, but the tile is not my friend right now. We’re still gonna do this but let’s get to the carpet or give me a pillow. I’ve already got fucking back issues and believe it or not I wanna fuck you more than once in the next couple of days—" Richie rattled off, reaching out and palming at Eddie’s cock through his pants as a form of apology.

That was one apology Eddie would accept.

He gave a breathless sigh, pushing his hips forward towards the friction greedily until the hand was pulled away. A slow blink—a hooded gaze as he looked back up at Richie and he gave a small laugh. “Fuck. You’re old.”

“Fuck you- this old man is about to suck the life out of your fucking dick, so I’d watch your mouth, Spaghetti.”

“Wow. Such a way with words.”

Richie reached for his cock again and squeezed lightly in well-deserved revenge, relishing in the noise Eddie made.

There was hardly any sound from Eddie that he _wouldn’t_ relish in.

“Mm—_fuck_—okay, let me free I’m gonna go grab a pillow.” Eddie attempted to push himself off from where he had been leaning far too heavily against the counter.

“Wait- so you’re saying you’re set on us screwing around in the kitchen? I thought you’d be going off about how unsanitary that is—”

“If you don’t give me the opportunity to think about how unsanitary it is then I’m not gonna.” Eddie shot back, trying to figure out how to escape where Richie was still trapping him against the countertop. “And maybe I’m into you enough to do this.”

“Aw, Eds. Be careful- people may think you like me or something.” Richie kissed the corner of his mouth.

Eddie gave a slightly exasperated laugh, fighting dirty and grabbing for Richie’s side. A small grin of triumph colored his face as he got him to jump and let out an honest-to-god giggle.

“Let me move so I can get a pillow and then shut you up.” Eddie ducked out of his arms finally, exiting the kitchen and heading to grab one of the couch pillows.

“I thought you liked my mouth!” Richie called after him, his smile nearly audible.

“I’m gonna like it a lot more in a minute— Hopefully someone taught you not to talk with your mouth full.” Eddie felt his ears burn, both with the sudden burst of confidence and the remark that left his own mouth. There was something about Richie that got him to cut lose and say things he normally wouldn’t. It was part of why he loved him.

Woah.

_Love _him.

That was a new one.

Eddie took a deep breath, deciding to process one life changing moment at a time. Thinking of Richie as his boyfriend was a new enough label for today, and his dick was a little too hard to be contemplating how he more or less loved this man since they were thirteen.

But he did love him.

He loved him a lot.

Swiping one of the pillows off the couch and pushing all those thoughts aside just for now, Eddie returned to the kitchen. The silent and mutual agreement that they had both waited far too many years to get to this point in their relationship hung in the air between them.

Nothing could stop Eddie when he was on a mission—and boy, was he on a _mission_.

He dropped the pillow on the tiled kitchen floor right beside Richie’s bare feet—then promptly snapped his fingers and pointed at it. Looking a picture of borderline ridiculousness with a hand on his hip, an obvious boner, and an insistent stare.

There was no force on earth or beyond that could get Richie to hold back the sudden laughter bubbling in his chest.

“Fucking _shit_, Eds! Oh my god you look so bossy—did someone make better brownies than you for the PTA bakesale?” Richie ducked in, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s pouty lips before he could get a snappy retort in. That shouldn’t be as hot as it was- but Richie was wildly into it.

Honestly, there wasn’t much about Eddie that he wasn’t wildly into. Richie was certain he had made a mental bullet point like that to himself before, but he didn’t mind another. Most of his mental map was ridden with Eddie-centric bullet points.

“You put the idea in my head, asshole. I’m not going to apologize for getting impatient.” Eddie muttered against his mouth, finally reaching up and pushing on Richie’s shoulders. “Now get on your knees—”

“Yessir. Kaspbrak, sir.” Richie was grinning like a lovestruck idiot, placing his hands-on Eddie’s chest and sliding them down as he eased onto his knees once more, this time with the added cushion of the pillow to take away the bite of the cold tile.

“Better?” Eddie breathed, looking down at Richie and already far too distracted by the determined slow circle of his thumbs against his hips.

“Much. Have I told you your hipbones could cut fucking glass, Eds? Shit- I’m gonna bleed out if I so much as touch my face to these bad boys—” Richie leaned forward, pressing a slow, gentle kiss right above the elastic band, starting to take his time once more.

Eddie dropped his head back, letting out a measured breath and promptly digging his fingers into Richie’s hair. “I swear to fucking god, Richie, if you don’t put your mouth on my dick right now I’m going to lock myself in the bathroom and finish without you—” He bit out through gritted teeth, anymore of his rant cut off by Richie quite suddenly yanking his pajama pants down to his thighs.

“Is that enough progress for you?” Richie all but cooed, palming Eddie momentarily through his underwear before moving to rid him of that as well. “Glad to know you’re a briefs kinda guy—You know, you can tell a lot about a guy from the color of his underwear—”

“_Richie_—”

“Noted. Shutting up now.”

For all the talking and stalling, Richie certainly wasted no time at all in taking Eddie’s cock into his mouth like a fucking _champ_. Eddie cursed, loudly, gripping the countertop with his free hand and only just barely resisting bucking his hips forward into the wet heat of Richie’s mouth.

Apparently, Richie really did know what he was doing, because Eddie was nearly seeing stars in mere seconds. Or maybe it was the amount of time they had been fooling around.

Maybe it was just because it was Richie.

Eddie bit his lower lip, his knees nearly buckling as Richie got to work. He was bobbing his head up and down, and the noises he was making were absolutely obscene. After a moment or two, Eddie used the firm grip in his hair to guide his movements, gasping hotly as Richie gave an encouraging little moan around his cock.

A full shudder passed down Eddie’s spine, arching his back in a desperate search for something he wasn’t exactly sure of.

Richie had begun to slide his hands up and down Eddie’s thighs—his hips, up under his shirt, and back down over his abdomen before trailing around to his ass. Broad, stroking movements as if to map his body out by touch alone while his mouth did work of its own.

Eddie spared a glance down, a shaking moan leaving his parted lips at the sight of Richie’s mouth stretched around his cock, swallowing him down like he was meant for it.

“Oh _god_—Rich, I’m—” Eddie’s mind couldn’t find the words, let alone get them to leave his lips.

Seemingly getting the idea, Richie pulled off of him with a wet _pop _of a sound, pausing a moment to press his forehead to Eddie’s hip and catch his breath.

“Fuck.” He muttered, voice ragged and breathless. Eddie felt the sudden gut churning desire to hear Richie’s voice be absolutely _wrecked_, but that was for another time. “Not yet, Eds. ‘M not done with you…”

Reluctantly loosening his hand from Richie’s hair, Eddie leaned back against the counter in a small, irritated daze. He was still very much aroused and coming back from the edge of climax slowly. A small sound left his throat as Richie went so far as to pull his pajama pants back up into place and rise to his feet slowly.

Richie put one hand against his back for a short moment- because getting on the floor to give a hot guy a stellar blowjob really wasn’t as easy as it was in his twenties.

At least there was a significantly less amount of self-hatred involved in the act this time. 

“Aw, don’t give me that look—” Richie said, finally spotting the expression on Eddie’s face. He looked so perfect this way, flushed with a slight sheen of sweat. At some point his hair had gotten a little more ruffled than his normal bedhead. He cupped Eddie’s cheeks, leaning in to kiss him sweetly- letting the bite of desire build naturally.

“Fuck—” Eddie, apparently deciding that he was not irritated anymore, slid his arms around Richie’s shoulders and pressed in close—desperately so. “I can…fuck—I can taste—”

“Okay, I’m just going to say right now that I love hearing you talk dirty. I know I didn’t really let you finish that sentence but holy shit. Can I egg this out of you more? It’s like your medical bullshit but somehow so much hotter—” Richie kissed him again—and again—and again—just like before. Enough times until he got an exasperated laugh out of the man before him.

He had a sudden, gut feeling that Eddie had no idea what it was like to _enjoy _sex. Hell, Richie hadn’t enjoyed it much before either, but he had liked it alright. None of his experiences were ever truly _bad_. It was just something about small town repression fucking with happiness receptors in his brain. There were a couple times he had laughed with previous partners- but he had never been as wrapped up in the other like he was now.

If he could make Eddie laugh—make him gasp and squirm and let out that whining sound that Richie wanted to bottle and save forever—then he could do anything. Making this the best for Eddie was a top priority. If Eddie was enjoying himself deeply and immensely, then Richie would too.

“Not that I’m not into this, but…” Eddie muttered against his mouth when he finally got the chance to escape Richie’s persistent kisses. “I really want to go back to bed now.”

Richie got his hands into that soft hair, messing with it playfully. He took ahold of it tight when Eddie tried to pull away, relishing in the desperate little gasp from his kiss swollen lips.

“Hopefully not to sleep.”

“_Defiantly _not to sleep—I’m too fucking hard to sleep and it’s your fault.”

“Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing.” Richie let his laugh settle low in his chest, kissing Eddie just once more before showing a small bit of mercy and letting go of his hair, reaching for his hand instead.

“I want to go back to bed so you can fuck me.”

Richie was fairly certain he went brain dead in that moment. He stopped, holding Eddie’s hand tightly and just staring at him for a moment.

Those were words he had never expected to get out of Eddie’s mouth, but ones he had been dying to hear all the same. Like some desperate schoolboy with a crush that lasted thirty years overdue.

“…Well alright then.” He said, a little breathless as he stepped back to pull Eddie towards the bedroom.

\--

It had taken a little longer than Richie would have liked to get Eddie shirtless, pants-less, and on his back, stretched out across the king-sized bed than he would have liked. Although, all the distracting moments that had derailed him from his current goal weren’t bad in the slightest.

Eddie seemed to be on a mission to get his hands anywhere and _everywhere _on Richie’s body. He was touching him in a way that seemed like he was almost frightened of Richie slipping through his fingers, or that all of this was a dream.

Richie was doing everything in his power to prove it was reality.

He couldn’t help but laugh when Eddie nearly manhandled him in order to shed Richie’s worn sleep shirt. There was a loose smile into scattered kisses across Eddie’s freckle marked and scarred chest. Eddie’s hands in his hair—across his shoulders—down his spine and dipping into the back of his sweats before shoving them down—Eddie—Eddie—_Eddie_—

Only when the last layers of fabric between them were discarded did Richie pause. He sat up enough to look down at Eddie, letting his eyes rake over his body fully.

This was it. This was his childhood crush- his first and only love—his stupid gay awakening and his _everything_. All things that Richie had barely admitted to himself in the last few months. Getting anywhere near saying those things out loud would be a process, but it appeared Eddie was along for the ride no matter what.

Eddie, who was watching him with wide brown eyes that turned into a comically furrowed brow. His chest heaving up and down with labored breaths as direct evidence to how worked up they had both gotten. The puckered, pink scar tissue contrasting against his skin in a way that made Richie both sick to his stomach and excited for a new chapter.

For all it was worth- all that pain and suffering and waiting—so much _waiting_—they were here now.

Richie and Eddie.

R+E.

Richie huffed out a soft laugh, letting his hands slide up and down Eddie’s legs in slow rhythmic motions as he sat up on his knees between them.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Eddie asked, breathless in the only way he should be with no intense bite behind it. A self-conscious shade of red burning at the tips of his ears.

He was buck-ass nude in front of his childhood best friend, who was laughing now apparently. There was a lot to be potentially embarrassed about.

The nervousness eased slightly when Richie leaned down, gently catching Eddie’s lips in a kiss so sweet he was certain he’d get diabetes.

“Nothing bad, Eds.” Richie murmured into his mouth, “Nothing at all. Just thinking.”

“You actually do that?” Eddie shot back, the snarky retort hitching slightly in his throat when Richie picked that _exact _moment to ghost the touch of his fingers along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. Eddie felt his skin jump beneath his hands.

“Fuck you. Now I won’t tell you what it was about—”

“No. You have to.”

“Since when?”

“Since I said so.”

Richie couldn’t help but snort, rubbing his cheek against Eddie’s in a burst of possessiveness before kissing down his neck. That seemed to make Eddie nearly melt into the mattress—but then again, so did everything Richie was doing.

That was certainly something to be smug about.

“You’re being bossy.”

“Well- you stopped touching my dick. It gave me a chance to think.”

Richie wrapped his hand around his cock immediately after the remark, stroking him firmly and using it as a distraction as he worked a dark mark against Eddie’s neck with his teeth and tongue. The way he suddenly whined, gasped, and very nearly writhed on the bed was amazing.

What gave Eddie the right to sound like a goddamn porn star anyways?

“Fuck—fucking _fuck_—Richie—” He sounded so desperate that Richie nearly came right then and there, untouched and getting off on Eddie’s voice alone. Thankfully he had just a tad more self-control than that.

Just as quickly as he began, Richie stopped, relishing in the almost pouting way that Eddie dropped back onto the mattress and glared daggers at him.

“I’m going to fucking kill you if you don’t fuck me now—or do something more than being a _fucking _tease.”

“If you kill me then how can we have sweet, slow, sensual sex?”

“God—I fucking love you. You _asshole_—”

Before Richie truly had time to process the weight of what had just happened, Eddie was yanking him down into a frantic, sloppy kiss with a tight hand in his hair.

Everything from that point on suddenly felt charged— electrified with a type of energy that neither of them could truly place. Eddie’s clinging grip grew heartachingly tight. Richie’s touched were more driven than before. It was enough of stalling and waiting.

They had both wasted so much time not doing anything.

Nearly thirty years of wasted time.

Eddie fell into a silence littered with gasps and hurried nods of consent at each of Richie’s movements. He was babbling things here and there, probably not fully aware of what he was saying.

Hell, Richie wasn’t even inside him yet and Eddie was already talking about next time.

At least he knew he was into it.

After gathering the appropriate lube from the bedside table and the (thankfully not expired) pack of condoms, Richie got to work carefully. This was Eddie’s first time and he wanted it to be special.

Granted it already was special, at least in Richie’s mind, because it was Eddie. Everything was made better by just his mere existence.

As careful as he was, he had to be quick, they had been fooling around for much longer than probably either of them had anticipated. Each second more breathtaking than the last, but the mutual patience between them was dancing a dangerous knife’s edge.

When Richie finally pushed into him it honestly felt like coming home—but in the right sort of way.

Eddie was everything right in this world. For as fucked up as both of them were they found peace in each other. An intimate, bone deep feeling that Richie hadn’t even been aware one could achieve during sex. It wasn’t just a past time, or a physical attraction.

It was attraction on every level. Deep and real, emotional and physical. Overwhelming and hyper stimulating in every way, shape, and form imaginable. 

He felt Eddie shake against him. Felt the dig of his heels against the small of his back and the scrabble of his blunt fingernails against his shoulders. He felt Eddie cling to him and tremble, his face buried against his neck and back arched in an angle he would most certainly regret in the morning but was completely worth it in the moment.

“Move.” Eddie said, finally, his voice the right sort of wrecked and strung out.

“You sure? We can give it another second if—”

“Richie if you don’t fucking move right now I swear to god— I had your mouth on my dick I’ve waited enough—” Eddie’s voice pitched just a little higher. It was something Richie was glad hadn’t gone away with age.

The same Eddie that he loved— god, he loved him.

Richie shifted his position just enough to kiss him, the intoxicating movement of his lips against his own. They were both far enough gone that it was messy, and far from perfect— and that was what made it complete and utter perfection.

Richie started with an experimental thrust of his hips, pulling out just a bit before snapping back forward. Given the encouraging noises slipping out of the man beneath him he started in steadily fairly quickly. There was no way both of them were going to last much longer, not with all the teasing he had put Eddie through and the fact that Eddie had just been _Eddie _this entire time. That was more of a turn on than anything Richie had ever experienced.

He fucked Eddie like he deserved to be fucked. Hard and sweet and adoring and intense—everything wrapped up into one bundle of emotion and action.

As Richie had learned from his brief stint in acting classes, every action warranted a reaction, and Eddie’s School of Reactions was one that Richie wanted to graduate from.

Fuck, he wanted a PhD in Eddie’s School of Reactions- if that could even be a thing.

The way Eddie seemed to practically bend to his every movement beneath him was hard to look away from. Completely flushed from head to toe, sweat glistening across his brow. His eyes had slipped closed and his scarred chest was heaving with worked up breaths. Every now and again one would hitch in his throat, accented perfectly with either a whine or a sigh of Richie’s name.

He never wanted Eddie to stop saying his name.

It was becoming far too much, watching Eddie—being inside Eddie—Eddie—Eddie—_Eddie_—

When Richie reached between their bodies, wrapping his hand around Eddie’s leaking and neglected cock and stroking firmly it didn’t last much longer.

There was something artful about the way Eddie seized up. How his back arched, and his nails dug deeper against Richie’s skin, marking his shoulders in a signature unique to Edward Kaspbrak. He clenched around him and Richie saw stars, coming a few short moments after him with his face buried against Eddie’s shoulder.

“Oh _fuck_—” Richie breathed weakly, mouth open and wet against Eddie’s searing skin.

He did his best not to crush him once he dropped down. Now laying sprawled out on top of Eddie who had his arms loosely around him, both of them trying to chase down their breath and catch it. The left-over haze of love and longing hanging hot and heavy in the air, still pressed against one another, fully engulfed in a way that made Richie’s head spin.

Or maybe that had just been the _fantastic _orgasm.

“Wow…” Richie breathed, the first one to speak as usual. The silence had hung far too long, and he needed Eddie to know.

“Yeah…”

“_Wow_…”

“Yeah, Rich. I know.”

“Just fucking—_amazing_—”

“_Yes_—I was there. In fact, I’m still here. With your dick in me. Holy shit.”

He gave a huff of a laugh, kissing Eddie’s shoulder right over the dark hickey he had left earlier. Maybe he had gotten a little too aggressive, but it was worth it. 

Richie pulled out finally, sitting up a little to get rid of the condom and tie it off—

“If you fucking throw that on the floor I will kill you—” Eddie said, immediately, sitting up just a little.

“Dude, I just fucked your brains out can you maybe chill for two seconds?”

“I’m just saying I know you and I know that that goes in a trashcan.”

Richie, who was very much just going to throw the used condom on the floor, got up to put it in the trash instead. Facing Eddie’s wrath wasn’t something he wanted to deal with right now, mainly because it would jeopardize any cuddling he was about to get.

When he stepped back to the bed, Eddie was wiping himself off methodically with his own pajama pants, making a little bit of a face as he did. Body still flushed and marks, old and new, across the canvas of his skin.

He was the most beautiful thing Richie had ever seen.

Dropping down onto the bed with him, Richie tucked himself in close, pulling Eddie against his chest and holding him tight. He pressed a kiss to his forehead, burying his nose into his hair and just…staying that way.

Here. Together. With Eddie.

Who was thankfully letting him snuggle the shit out of him instead of squirming to get up and go wash off like Richie feared he would.

Eddie was just full of surprises.

“…Hey.” Richie said, quietly after a moment. Eddie had just tangled their legs together and he had felt the other man relax against him completely. Eyes closed and breathing soft, tracing small little patterns against Richie’s arm.

“Hmm?” Eddie didn’t bother lifting his head all the way, it was tucked right under Richie’s chin like he belonged there.

He did.

“…I love you too.” Richie whispered, his heart racing and traces of lingering fear coursing through his veins.

Some things you never really shook. Some things took a lot longer to get rid of and get over.

But after almost losing him—Eddie needed to know that he was loved in return.

“…I know.” He could feel Eddie’s smile against his skin.

Richie immediately pinched his side, causing the man in his arms to jump and let out a comical yelp.

“What the fuck was that? We were having a moment, you dick!”

“Don’t quote Star Wars at me—if anyone is Princess Leia it’s you, obviously.”

Eddie made an offended sound, smacking Richie on the arm.

“I didn’t Star Wars it on purpose! I said I loved you first”

“To be fair, it was right when I was gonna stick my dick in you, so you were saying a lot of things—”

“None of this makes me Princess Leia in any situation.”

“Mm…no I think it does.”

Eddie squirmed in his arms to get away, and Richie only held him tighter. They wrestled for a few moments. Lots of grabbing and holding, playing dirty with a small bit of side grabbing and tickling. Laughter floating easily between them as Richie rolled onto his back, pulling Eddie up and against him before they settled back down.

Laughter subsiding, Eddie pressed a small kiss to Richie’s cheek before pillowing his head against his shoulder.

“Hey, Rich?”

“Yeah, Eds?” Richie traced the scar on his back slowly, gaze focused on the ceiling above them. He could practically hear the smile on Eddie’s face.

“I love you.” Eddie murmured.

Richie couldn’t help but grin, feeling lighter than he had in years with the weight of Eddie pressed against his side. He mimicked his best Harrison Ford voice.

“I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Want to chat and stuff? I’m on Twitter @acornandroid and am always game for talking about fictional idiots


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